School Daze
by RonneeM
Summary: Illya's undercover role gets more dangerous #5 in Little Warrior series


_Title: School Daze_   
_Author/pseudonym: Ronnee M_   
_Fandom: Man from U.N.C.L.E._   
_Rating: PG-13_   
_Status: done_   
_Archive: yes, please_   
_E-mail address for feedback::Ronnee M_   
_Series/Sequel: The Following Orders Series_   
_Other websites: http://www.geocities.com/Area51/Omega/2356_   
_Disclaimer: All characters from the TV show Man from U.N.C.L.E. belong to the show's owners, not to me. I make no money from writing, I do it for fun. I have nothing worth suing, so please don't._   
_Note: Anyone who notices a historical goof on my part, please, please, tell me. I tried to get rid of them all, but I'm not perfect.._   
_Summary: Illya's education begins._

* * *

  
The Following Orders Series   
School Daze   
by Ronnee

* * *

  
Special note: this was inspired by a photograph from the book : Chronicle of the Holocaust which does in-depth research and explanation for the way the Nazis led their people into believing the 'Final Solution' was needed. 

* * *

  
Illya stared at the color charts with interest. It had never occurred to him that the internal working of the human body could be so fascinating. On nearly silent feet, he crept closer to the class. He knew he wasn't supposed to disturb the class but he wanted, no he needed to see. 

Throughout the long class, Illya paid strict attention to the professor's explanation of how nerves controlled the internal function of the organs. He listened intently to the dialog on circulation and its affects. That caused him to frown thoughtfully. It didn't quite fit what he knew to be true. 

"Do you have a question, young man?" The professor's voice spoke softly in his ear. 

Illya jumped, startled, his hand darting to the knife hidden under his coat. Wide-eyed, he stared at the lecturing professor, trying to figure a way out of his predicament. Unfortunately, there was no easy way out. 

"I asked you a question, child." The professor's frown was growing with his impatience. 

"You said that blood is made of water?" Illya spoke up, praying he wouldn't bring any more trouble to them by answering the professor. Nicholas hadn't enrolled him in school, which was technically not legally required. Instead the young man allowed Illya to slip into the university classes he was taking. What was illegal was the fact that Illya wasn't a member of the Hitler Youth. He had to keep the professor from figuring out that they were not the perfect German university family. "But it doesn't run -- its movement is much slower, thicker -- more like truck oil." 

The professor looked him over carefully. "Where did you see this?" 

"In the village, before I came here to live with my papa." Illya forced his eyes wide as he whispered his cover story. 

"And who is your father, child?" The professor spoke quietly, but his voice reminded Illya of the ice at the edge of the river -- thin, but strong enough to slice through his mittens, it was treacherous enough to shatter under the weight of anyone bigger than Illya. It led to the death of strangers every winter. Illya mentally moved the professor into the category of dangerous enemy. 

Nicholas' voice came from the front of the class. "He is my son, sir." 

The professor looked from Illya to Nicholas with another frown. "And why is he here? He should be in a class with his peers. Or is there something wrong with him?" 

Both Illya and Nicholas stiffened at the accusation. They knew what the Reich did with those who were different. 

"My son is a normal boy, sir. I was unable to get his grades because the village school was destroyed so I have been testing him at home. I wanted to take him directly to the correct class. He understands a lot of what I have been studying, so I let him come with me." Nicholas explained tightly, his eyes locked on the professor. Beside him the boy stood at attention. They had planned this scene, but not this early. 

"And how long has your son attended my lectures?" 

"Three weeks, sir." Nicholas answered truthfully. 

"Your name, boy?" 

"Victor, Herr Professor." Illya answered, still standing at attention. 

"Come to the front of the lecture room, Victor. There you will be able to see the charts." The professor led Illya to the front of the class and showed him to a seat. "After the lecture, we will see how much you have learned." 

Once Illya was settled, the professor returned to his lecture, explaining in detail how the body used the blood. Illya sat quietly, memorizing the professor's words. 

* * *

The two men in their SS uniforms strode into the lecture hall as the students left. Illya stiffened and slid closer to Nicholas. The young man shifted slightly, standing between the SS officers and the boy. 

"Herr Professor." 

"Herr Commandant, this is the boy I told you about." The professor smiled and it was all Illya could do to keep from shuddering. "They say he was raised in a village -- one of the ones near the border which have been razed by fighting." 

The first SS officer nodded and stepped up to Nicholas. "Move aside. I will check the boy." 

Nicholas stepped away, his movements stiff as he exposed Illya to the man's avid gaze. The tall man stooped down and pulled out a set of instruments. He quickly held calipers up to Illya's ear and read off a measurement. Then he began measuring Illya's face, calculating the angles and curves as well as the size of each feature. A card containing swatches of hair was held to his, and the color number was noted. Finally after a long consultation between the officers, the first one began to smile. 

"He is a perfect example of a young Aryan boy." The SS man sounded delighted at the finding. "Why is he not in the Hitler Youth?" 

Nicholas looked from one to the other before answering. "I thought the school would handle that once he was enrolled. I am still testing him to figure out in which level he should be placed." 

The SS frowned as one. "We could handle that. Have you kept up his studies?" 

"Yes, sir. I believe he is ahead of his age, sir." Nicholas kept his voice respectful as he answered. 

"We will ask him ourselves." The second man spoke up, his eyes distrustful. He turned to Illya. "Have you been studying since you came to the University?" 

"Papa lets me do the same studies he is doing. He says my answers are as correct as his are. But he can't help me with chemistry. He wants to get a friend to tutor me for it." Illya let himself become an eager child for the enemy. The two SS officers looked at each other and frowned. "I am ahead of Papa there, but he understands French better than I do. Did you know my Papa can read Latin? He translates those passages for me because Herr Professor keeps asking us to read the text in the original and I don't know Latin yet. Papa is teaching me." 

"You will come with us." The first SS officer finally said after a long thoughtful silence. "Herr Professor, you will come as well. We need to find out exactly how bright this child is." 

* * *

Berholdt looked up, eyeing Nicholas and Illya sharply. "You're late tonight, my friends." 

"Phase two started unexpectedly." Nicholas answered wearily as he sat down on a chair by the table. He rested his arms on the table and closed his eyes. "The boy lies well." 

Illya dropped his satchel on the floor and joined them. When Berholdt pushed a half full mug of tea at him, he gulped it down greedily. "It was easy, they didn't ask too many questions about our story. They wanted to test me." 

"And?" Berholdt kept his voice soft as the two rapidly ate the bread and cheese he provided them. "Did it work?" 

"He has to attend a Hitler Youth camp for an hour after the anatomy lecture." Nicholas shrugged at the thought. Then he grinned. "They were happy he knew Hitler's Mein Kampff as well as he does. Having him memorize it and the Nuremberg laws was a good idea Berholdt." 

Their leader smiled grimly. "Good. I want to know everything they teach in that class. I also want to know who teaches it. Can you draw, Victor?" 

Illya looked up and met the big man's eyes. He shrugged uncertainly. "I can learn." 

"After you eat, we will begin." Berholdt stood and went to the window. The apartment they shared was small, but comfortable. It had once belonged to a Jewish family and when they were arrested, the Nazi's gifted it to the University to house students. Berholdt caressed the faint carving by the window, reading the Hebrew prayer to himself and acknowledging its necessity. The group needed God to be their protector or they were doomed to follow the Jewish family to one of the labor camps. He lifted the window seat, revealing a stack of notebooks and a set of colored pencils. 

"These used to belong to Lisle. Now they are yours, Victor." He said as he carried them over to the table. 

Illya opened the first notebook and stared. The drawing was beautiful; a dark haired woman was cradling a small baby to her chest, eyes fastened on the sleeping child's face. The room was the same one they were sitting in and it surprised him. "They were your friends?" 

"Germans are not allowed to be friends with inferior races, Victor." Berholdt's words belied the fury in his eyes. "They were sent away, to live with others of their kind." 

Illya nodded. He saw what Berholdt had seen; the little sign had fallen which meant someone was standing outside the door. He flipped several pages and found a blank page. From memory he began drawing a diagram from the color charts he'd seen in the lecture. As the knocker on the door sounded, Nicholas straightened and leaned over to inspect the drawing. 

"How may I help you, mien Herren?" Berholdt's voice was calm as he spoke to the uniformed man at the door. 

"The boy left his book at the Commandant's office." The thickset man strode into the room with the assurance of his uniform. No German citizen would think of arguing with anyone in that uniform. 

His flat brown eyes took in the scene in the room. Books piled on the table, fighting for space with papers, cups, and a platter of bread and cheese. Two blonde heads looked up from their work, blue eyes wide at the interruption. The man strode around the room, noting everything, the worn furniture, the blank spaces on walls where framed art had been removed, the heavy bookcases filled with books. He pulled a book from his uniform tunic and placed it by Illya's hand. 

"You are to join the rest of your age group at 8am for a special lesson." The man ordered with a sneer before turning to leave. "I will be here at 7:30 to escort you to the class." 

The three resistance fighters looked at each other after he left. This did not look good. Finally, Berholdt locked the door and went to his own room. Nicholas stood, taking the notebook from Illya. He glanced at the beautiful drawings in the front of it and sighed before cutting them from the book. He carefully folded them and placed them in an old, tattered book on the bottom shelf of the bookcase. 

"We have things to study, Victor." Nicholas' voice was sad as he picked up another book and opened it. "You need to know the signs of a Jew before you get to class in the morning." 

Illya nodded, turning his attention to the book and the picture chart of the races of man. Special lessons always involved training the students on the Reich's means of identifying or handling the members of the so-called inferior races. He wondered briefly how the SS would react if they knew he was Russian and not German. With a shudder, he decided he didn't really want to know. After all, the rumors were bad enough. 

* * *

The glass kept out the winter wind, but the bleak winter air in his heart made Illya want to shudder. His escort had not spoken a single word to him during the trip from Illya's apartment to the Hitler Youth lecture. He wondered if Berholdt or one of the others had followed him. If they had, they would be worried. This was not the school they to which they had expected Illya to be taken. Instead, Illya was at the most prestigious primary school in the city. The others in the classroom were children of the elite, their parents were high ranking members of the University or the Nazi party or were scientists working on Hitler's special projects. 

"Today, we will examine how the Reich can deduce the amount of Aryan blood in a person. The teacher stood against the blackboard, his crisply spoken words causing instant silence. 

Illya felt his gorge rise as he was motioned to the front of the room. How was he going to get out of this? What had happened after he and Nicholas had left the commandant's office? He forced himself to calm down, making his face as expressionless as he could. He walked past posters that listed the types and races of man, from superior to inferior. The labels under the faces listed the type and continent from which they came. Aboriginal from Australian, American Indian from North America, Mongol from Asia, Negroid from Africa. Illya noticed them and wondered. The picture of a Jewish face didn't look that different from that of some of the Germans he had met. The Rom was different, darker but very close to that of Marco and Illya knew how smart that old man was. He wondered if the Nazi's had noticed that he had Rom blood. 

The teacher, carefully chosen for his ability to parrot Nazi rhetoric and seem believable began lecturing about the way blood and inheritance marked a person's face. Beside him, the two Nazi officers who had examined Illya the day before were setting up their paraphernalia. 

"This young man is a perfect example of the Aryan race." The teacher continued. "He has a superior intellect and will be studying at the university alongside his father. Both father and son share many characteristics -- blond hair, blue eyes, pale but lightly tanned skin and all the markers of a pure German descent." 

As the teacher explained their actions, the two officers took out their calipers and began measuring Illya's features. Point by point, the teacher commented on their notes, Illya's scores and how those measurements were used to calculate the purity of Illya's parentage. It was all he could do to keep from laughing aloud as their calculations failed to note the truth. Illya's secret was safe as long as the Nazis used such imperfect means to find their enemies.   
  


finis 


End file.
